


In Debt

by Soraya (soraya2004), soraya2004



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, First Time, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-07
Updated: 2006-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-14 19:38:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraya2004/pseuds/Soraya, https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraya2004/pseuds/soraya2004
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carson discovers that Ronon is a man, who believes in paying his debts</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Debt

**Author's Note:**

> Mild spoilers for "The Siege - part 3", "Runner" and "The Long Goodbye"

  
The thing with Ronon starts quite by accident. It's all just a big misunderstanding, the kind, which Carson has watched other people blunder into from the sidelines yet generally never experienced himself. Perhaps the truly strange thing is that something like this hasn't happened sooner because there's a certain amount of gratitude that comes with saving a person's life. _Gratitude_ is something he understands people will feel toward him whenever he does his job well. Before coming to the Pegasus galaxy, he has seen it expressed in the gushing thanks of parents, who name their children after him, or the beautiful cards he receives from them at Christmas. Now, it tends to come in the form of livestock and parents actually trying to _give_ him their children.

Still, that's nothing compared to a 6'5" military specialist offering to go down on him.

"Excuse me?" Carson chokes, certain he _has_ to have misheard that.

But when Ronon repeats the offer in that low, soft growl of his, adding, "Or you can fuck me, if that's what you want," Carson suddenly finds he has to work very hard not to swallow his tongue.

"Son, I realize you're new here," he begins, trying to stay calm. "But I'm a doctor. It's my job to help people. You don't have to pay me with—" He can't even bring himself to finish the sentence. The idea that _any_ doctor would demand sex in return for their services fills him with revulsion. "Look, you don't have to pay me at all! So, let's just leave it at that, shall we?" he says briskly, before turning back to his laptop, muttering under his breath about bloody dark age medical practices.

In a few minutes, he's completely absorbed in his research, and he manages to forget all about Ronon and that disturbing proposition. In fact, he's so successful at forgetting about it that when he eventually decides to take a break, he turns round and he winds up yelling, "Bloody hell!"

Because Ronon is _still there_. Only now Ronon is standing _right next to him_ , and there's a fierce glare of emotion in his eyes, almost as though he's struggling with something.

"You freed me from a life of running, so I feel like I owe you," Ronon explains. "I don't like owing people."

And that's when the big misunderstanding happens.

Ronon crouches down in front of on him, saying, "Let me do this for you."

Carson is pretty damn sure he insists, "Oh no, lad, no, I _couldn't_!"

Which is clearly _not_ what he should have said at all, because Ronon interprets _that_ breathless response to mean that he's not one hundred percent opposed to the idea of getting sucked off. Suddenly Carson finds himself pressed bare-arsed against a cold desk with the scalding, wet heat of Ronon's mouth on his cock. Instinctively, his body chooses to go for the _hot-tight-wet_ option, and before he can stop himself, he's sinking down deep into Ronon's throat.

"Ronon, _God_ ," Carson groans, closing his eyes because it's so good, it's so incredibly good he doesn't think he can stop even though he _knows_ he has to. "You don't—oh, _fuck_ —" he eases out, presses back in, and he threads his fingers deep into Ronon's hair while he hunches over him, shivering, trying to make himself ease out again.

Ronon responds with a rumbling, "Mmmm," which makes every nerve in his body resonate with pleasure. Then, everything is just smooth and sliding, with the slick sounds of Ronon's tongue as Ronon keeps bobbing his head and swallowing him down slowly, so incredibly slowly, like they've got all the time in the world to do this, like Carson isn't falling apart above him and the fingers clenching in his hair aren't begging him for _faster_ and _more_.

Soon, Carson is racked by the shudders rolling through his stomach. Then, his thighs are trembling, and his back is arching, and the roaring rush of pleasure pounding through his veins is the only thing he can hear for a very long time.

***

Afterwards, Ronon tells him: "Now, we're even," in his usual laconic way.

Carson watches him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand from where he sits slumped against the desk. He still can't move; even his hair feels like it's about to start curling from that spine-melting blowjob. So, it takes him a while to notice that Ronon is staring back at him with an intense look in his eyes.

His brain isn't functioning well enough to decipher what it means. In the end, because he thinks the reason might be that Ronon is waiting for him to _say something_ , he manages to croak: "Aye, even, right you are!"

Ronon nods, though that intense expression is still there. So, Carson looks down away from it, and even though he knows it's a bit cowardly of him, he makes sure he doesn't look up again until he's certain that Ronon has left the infirmary.

Staggering to his feet, he tucks himself back into his trousers. Then, he locks the whole incident away in the corner of his mind reserved for _really bizarre things that have happened to him which he'll never talk about to anyone *ever*_. It's the sensible thing to do, he tells himself, especially if he ever wants to be able to look Ronon in the eye again. And, as far as he's concerned, that puts an end to any hare-brained notion Ronon might have about owing him.

***

Had Sheppard's team not been the galaxy's biggest trouble magnets, perhaps that might have been the end of it. But they are—magnets for trouble all of them.

The law of averages means that at least one of them gets seriously injured almost every other mission. And because that person usually turns out to be Ronon, the next thing he knows Ronon is giving him those spine-melting _thank-you for healing me_ blowjobs on a semi-regular basis. Still, as much as he enjoys receiving them—and _God_ does he enjoy them once he gets past the initial guilt, so much that sometimes just thinking about Ronon is enough to make him ache—the pleasure always sours quickly when he watches Ronon walk away afterwards.

He has never been a selfish lover. Normally, he takes as much delight in giving pleasure as well as in receiving it. Yet, this thing with Ronon is all one way traffic. Which only leaves a new kind of guilt standing right next to his ethical conscience. It makes him very uncomfortable to think of how they started having sex in the first place, let alone the fact that Ronon only ever comes to him after treatment for an injury. Beyond that, he and Ronon don't seem to _have_ much of a relationship. They don't talk outside his quarters; God, they don't even talk _in_ them; and for a while, he manages to pretend he's okay with things as they stand.

He pretends not to cringe whenever Ronon leaves immediately after they have sex; he pretends the way Ronon always leaves his bed unsatisfied doesn't bother him at all. These seem to be the rules of whatever game it is they're playing, and he's determined to keep up his end of the deal because, despite these reservations, he has finally admitted to himself that he doesn't want to stop. During a long stretch, when Ronon seems to come back from every mission without a single scratch on him, he's forced to accept that the little he has is far better than nothing at all.

So, he decides to let things stay the way they are, until around the fifth time Ronon comes to him.

After Ronon has sucked him for what feels like _hours_ , so perfectly that he's lying there on his bed shaking and covered with sweat, once Ronon gets up to leave something in him just shatters. He finds he can't let Ronon go, not again, not like this, not without doing _something_ for him in return. So, he reaches out and he grabs Ronon by the wrist to stop him.

"Can I?" he asks quietly, almost tentative, because despite all the sex they've had so far, he's not sure how Ronon feels about going any further.

Several seconds later, Ronon nods before he lets himself get drawn down onto the bed. And, for Carson, when he strokes his hand up between Ronon's thighs and when he feels Ronon's helpless, trembling response, it's like a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

He doesn't waste any time reaching into Ronon's trousers. There's no time at all to lose himself in how smooth and hot Ronon's cock feels in his hand, or how, when he curls his fingers round to slide his fist up and down, it's like Ronon has been designed to fit in his palm. Because Ronon is so close already that it doesn't take much more than a few firm strokes before Ronon's groans fill the room and Ronon's cock is spurting wetly over his hand.

***

After that, he finds it much easier to rationalize having sex with Ronon because they're both getting something out of it now.

They fall into a strange kind of pattern, where Ronon comes to his quarters at the end of the day. They still don't talk, and still Ronon only ever comes to him after being treated for an injury. The difference _now_ is when Ronon finishes sucking him, after Carson has caught his breath and after his entire body has stopped shaking, he'll draw Ronon close to him, reach into Ronon's trousers and then jerk him off slowly, so slowly that Ronon is always a gasping, shuddering wreck by the end of it.

Some nights, he makes Ronon come so hard that Ronon actually staggers afterwards as he tries to walk away. Those also tend to be the nights when the comment: _'Or, you can fuck me if that's what you want!'_ rattles around his head the loudest.

Carson does his best to ignore it; his conscience can only take so much gratitude. Which is why he's incredibly ruthless with himself about how far he allows himself to go with Ronon and what he lets Ronon do to him. They stick to just their hands and their mouths, with him using his hands and Ronon his mouth. Anything else seems like it would be a step too far, like somehow that would be taking gross advantage of Ronon. Because, as long as Ronon is the one to initiate things, and as long as all _he_ does is make sure that Ronon gets something out of it, he can find a way to rationalize the kind of sex they have.

Still, that doesn't stop him wanting more. And, God, does he want much, much more. He wants to lay Ronon out beneath him and then touch and taste every inch of his skin; he wants to know what it feels like to make Ronon come while he's buried deep inside his body. And the longer they do this thing they do, the harder it becomes for him to stick to those self-imposed restrictions, until he finds it's almost impossible to ignore that insidious little voice in his mind saying:

 _'You can fuck him! That's what he wants!'_

Especially when he has Ronon writhing against him and biting at his throat and soaking him with come.

 _That's_ the point at which he usually breaks.

His hand tends to stray a little then, drifting onto Ronon's stomach, sometimes up as high as his nipples. And while Ronon's face stays pressed into his throat, he can't help tilting his own face down so he can rub his cheek against Ronon's hair. Occasionally, if he lets his eyes close as he brushes a kiss into that hair, he hopes Ronon is too far gone to notice.

***

When the alien consciousness, which takes over Elizabeth's body, shoots Ronon and then leaves him for dead, Carson is the one, who has to dig the bullet out of Ronon's stomach.

It's the toughest surgery of his life, partly because without light or primary systems, he's thrown back to what are effectively the medical dark ages. Most of all, it's tough because, _God_ , this is _Ronon_ he's operating on. Ronon, who has somehow always seemed invincible, despite the number of scrapes he tends to come back with. Ronon, the man he has been having sex with on a semi-regular basis.

He can't quite call Ronon his lover—not yet, no matter how much he wants to. What they have doesn't feel like it has anything to do with love. At least, he thinks, not from Ronon's point of view. From his own, however, as he's digging in to Ronon's stomach, trying desperately to keep him alive, he's not so sure any more.

The relief he feels when he's certain Ronon will pull through tells him things that he finds hard to take. He can accept a degree of emotional involvement; anything else would be _insane_ given the kind of lives they lead and the fact that he still can't put a name to this relationship they have. Yet, the feelings are there clawing through his chest, making his stomach lurch every time he looks at Ronon's unconscious form. And it only seems to get worse when finally Ronon comes around.

Still drowsy from the anaesthetic, Ronon manages a wry smile and he says, "Thanks for saving my life, Doc."

Carson just knows he's blushing as bright as beetroot under that sleepy gaze. "You never have to thank me," he protests. Taking Ronon's hand in his, he gives it a gentle squeeze. "Ronon, please tell me you know that much by now."

When Ronon squeezes back, before stroking a thumb slowly across the backs of his knuckles, Carson suddenly finds it very difficult to breathe. For a long time they stare at each other, neither one of them saying anything.

Eventually, Ronon sighs, closing his eyes. "Still, I owe you one," he whispers.

And as Ronon falls asleep, Carson lets Ronon's hand slip from his. He knows what this means now. Heart pounding, hands shaking, he backs away from Ronon, knowing exactly what this means for them now, for _him_ , and it's far more serious than he could ever have predicted.

***

He fucks Ronon for the first time the morning he releases him from the infirmary.

He doesn't wait until the end of the day for Ronon to come to him. Instead, barely an hour after Ronon leaves, Carson stuffs a tube of lubricant into his back pocket and he goes to Ronon's quarters to find him. And, when he gets there, he can barely slow down long enough to take off his clothes. So, he _doesn't_ ; he just bends Ronon over the foot of Ronon's bed and then he fucks him with his shirt hitched up and his trousers bunched around his ankles.

In all the times he has ever allowed himself to imagine being inside Ronon, he has never thought he would be so desperate for him or so out of control. But that's exactly how he is: desperate, out of control, arching and grinding and trying to crawl all the way up into Ronon. And he can hear himself making these high pitched _whining_ sounds as Ronon just spreads his legs and takes him in, grunting, "Yeah, that's good, harder, come on!"

So, he _keeps on_ fucking Ronon as hard as he can, gripping him by the waist to pull him back into it. And he curls over, pressing his face in Ronon's nape, letting his hips thrust even deeper, faster, harder, until Ronon starts shuddering violently under him, and Ronon groans, "Too soon—I _can't_ —" sounding broken and _gone_.

Then he can _feel_ Ronon coming, clenching down, _shaking_ , and he _keeps_ pounding Ronon right the way through it because he can't stop either he's so close. Finally, when Ronon's legs just seem to give out, making Ronon crumple face first onto the bed, Carson goes down with him groaning and pushing deep. Then he's coming so hard his vision whites out.

When he can see again, he eases himself gently out of and off Ronon's body. Then, he struggles to his feet, trying not to trip in the tangle of his trousers. He's still struggling not to fall flat on his face when he hears the distinct sounds of skin sliding on sheets. And, finally when he manages to steady himself, he looks up to find Ronon lying on his back watching him very carefully despite the relaxed sprawl of his body.

"Are you all right?" Carson asks him. He's feeling a little nervous standing there wondering what kind of idiot _he_ must look like to Ronon with trousers down and his shirt half off. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so rough," he goes on, tugging at the hem of his shirt. "Should I—do you—"

He trails off, suddenly running out of things to say. There are no rules for where they are now, so he's not sure what he's supposed to do—whether he should stay, if he's even still welcome after the way he practically mauled Ronon.

"Ronon," Carson tries again, quiet, imploring. And this time Ronon answers him by reaching out and pulling him back down onto the bed.

He stretches himself out on top of that long, muscular body, feeling Ronon writhe underneath him. And from the way Ronon arches up toward him, parting his lips and tilting his head very slightly to one side, he realizes that Ronon _wants_ to kiss him and is probably _going to_ kiss him for the first time. So, he leans down to meet Ronon half way, shivering as Ronon cups a hand over his nape and pulls him into a kiss that's light and tender and surprisingly sweet.

It stays that way for a long time, with their lips brushing together and Ronon's fingers combing gently through his hair. They kiss each other slowly, softly, until Carson opens his mouth and Ronon strokes his tongue inside. Then, everything turns wild and desperate, and the heat, which never completely went away, flares brightly between them again.

Somehow, Carson manoeuvres through removing their clothes keeping their mouths locked together the whole time. Because, now that he's finally getting to taste Ronon, he can't get enough of him. But he has to stop sucking on Ronon's tongue just for a moment, just long enough to yank his shirt over his head. Then, he dives back in for another one of those wild, desperate kisses before he slides slowly down the bed, licking and sucking and tasting as much of Ronon's skin as he can.

He takes Ronon's cock into his mouth, loving the full body shiver that gets him, loving the way Ronon moans out his name and then claws his fingers into the sheets around them. It's so good to finally have Ronon like this, so incredibly good, but it's not nearly enough to satisfy the hunger, which has been building inside him since they started seeing each other.

So, for once he stops worrying about rules and boundaries and what he is or isn't allowed to do. He lets Ronon slip slowly from his mouth. Then, he pushes Ronon's thighs up and back, and he lets his tongue slide down lower, giving in to his sensual nature with a long slow drag across the entrance to Ronon's body, before he pushes his tongue in as deep as it can go.

He thinks he hears screaming then, though even _that_ seems so far away. Because for him now there's nothing but those long legs draped over his shoulders, and Ronon's taste, and Ronon's scent, and the desperate way Ronon keeps writhing under his hands. He spends a long, long time losing himself in all of it. So long that when he finally raises his head, Ronon is drenched with sweat and he's biting down on the hand he has clamped across his mouth, trying to stop himself from screaming.

"Shh, Ronon, it's okay, I've got you," Carson tells him, gently pulling that hand away, trying to soothe him. Moments later, when he slicks himself up and slides back into Ronon, he takes it slow, so slow this time around even though he's so turned on now that _he's_ shaking.

Ronon's legs wrap round his waist, and Ronon arches up to meet him, cupping one hand over his nape to draw him into another deep kiss. And when Carson comes again it's with Ronon's tongue in his mouth and the heavy spurts of Ronon's come splashing against his chest.

***

After that, Ronon begins to display levels of hypochondria, which surpass even Rodney McKay. He's in the infirmary at least once a day for any scratch, every twinge, for the slightest of muscle strains, insisting that Carson be the one to treat him.

Yet, Carson finds he doesn't mind the hypochondria so much when it's Ronon because, unlike Ronon, _Rodney_ doesn't drag him into supply cupboards to suck him for what feels like hours at a time. Rodney also doesn't tend to ambush him around lunchtime, pick him up and carry him to the nearest room where he'll throw him down on the bed, climb on top of him and then ride him so hard that neither one of them can remember their names afterwards.

No, Ronon is a completely different kind of hypochondriac from Rodney McKay, and for that Carson is truly grateful.

The only thing, which bothers him, is that Ronon still feels the need to maintain the charade of owing him somehow. All the other rules seem to fly out of the window, apart from this first one, the one Carson has always hated the most. He knows Ronon could probably have his pick of most people on Atlantis because Ronon is an incredible man. Strong, beautiful and almost insanely heroic: he's the kind of person men and women fall over themselves trying to attract.

Carson can't imagine why someone like Ronon would need to fabricate such an elaborate excuse to sleep with him. If there were some sort of logic to it, he supposes the _kind_ of sex he has with Ronon would be directly proportional to the severity of the injury he treats. But that's certainly not how it seems to work, and he's long past any hope of understanding Ronon's motives in all of this.

Still, as long as Ronon keeps coming to him, he thinks there's a chance that, in the end, they might be able to build something concrete out of their shaky start.

***

On M4X-381, everything changes. Sheppard's team somehow manages to land itself right in the middle of a civil war. In a situation where guns and medicine are the only valuable currency for trade, Carson finds himself travelling out to the front lines laden with boxes of medical supplies.

When he shows the Pagodan Elite what he has brought them, they ask him to stay behind in one of their camps to help them treat the wounded in return for letting Sheppard, Teyla, Rodney and Ronon into the capital to search for Ancient technology. But, only hours after they leave him, the camp Carson is in gets attacked by Pagodan rebels, who then proceed to slaughter everyone in sight. The rebels kill Lieutenants Dresden and Baker, whom Sheppard left behind to protect him; they kill the wounded, the doctors, the nurses—everyone except him because, as the alien doctor from the city of the Ancestors, he's a potential bargaining chip to use against the Elite.

Even then, he knows the reprieve is temporary at best. As he stumbles along the mountain paths, scared and cold from exhaustion, he knows his kidnappers are going to kill him anyway. In their eyes, he can see the desperation of men pushed beyond their limits. He remembers seeing the exact same thing in Aiden Ford's eyes seconds before Ford tried to kill him. Yet, when the moment suddenly arrives, when his kidnappers push him to his knees and they start arguing about whether it's worthwhile to their cause to keep him alive or whether he'll just be a drain on precious resources, he's still less than prepared for it.

He's not ready to die—not on some alien planet light years from home, and not as a casualty of a war he knows nothing about. As he stays there on his knees waiting for judgement, he prays because that's all he can do, and he keeps on praying until suddenly his ears start ringing and the air is bright with the smell of phosphur.

When the smoke clears, there are dead Pagodan rebels all around him, and Ronon is standing over him breathing heavily.

"Are you hurt?" Ronon asks him.

Carson doesn't answer. He can't speak, he thinks he may be going into shock because, _Jesus_ , Ronon has killed _every single one of his kidnappers_. They're lying there on the ground with their throats slit and their chests sliced open. So many dead, so much blood seeping into the mud. There's nothing he can do for any of them now, even if he wanted to—

"Beckett!" Ronon snarls right in his face, snapping him out of it. "Damn it, talk to me! Did they hurt you?"

Finally, Carson shakes his head and he whispers, "No, no, I'm fine, I'm all right!"

Only, Ronon doesn't seem to be listening to him any more. After Ronon yanks him to his feet, he's forced to stand there on the blood soaked ground while Ronon checks him over repeatedly from head to toe.

By the time Sheppard sprints into view, Ronon has patted him down three times already and Carson is starting to get a little frightened.

"Hey, Carson, it's good to have you back," Sheppard says, sounding calm and controlled and not at all like someone, who has spent the last twelve hours chasing rebels through the mountains. It's a control, which Carson envies as he watches the mild way Sheppard just raises an eyebrow at Ronon after getting a good look at the carnage. "I thought we agreed that you were going to leave some of them for questioning?"

"They didn't look like talkers," Ronon growls softly, only then sheathing his sword.

"And I guess _you_ would know that, huh?" Sheppard lets out a sigh tinged with frustration, and Carson can almost feel the tension crackling in the air between the two of them.

He has no idea what's causing it; right now, he's not sure he cares. All he really wants to do is to get off this planet as soon as possible. "Um, guys, could we—"

"Yeah, good point!" Sheppard takes one last look at those dead bodies before saying, "Listen, Ronon, why don't you let me take Carson off your hands while you cover us on the way out of here, okay?"

The next thing Carson knows, Ronon is pushing him toward Sheppard. And that's how they walk out of there, back to the Stargate where Rodney and Teyla are waiting for them. It's only several hours later, when he's safely back on Atlantis letting his steaming hot shower strip the grime of Pagoda from his skin, that he's remembers Ronon just saved his life.

***

Weeks later, Carson begins to regret the decision he took that night _not_ to go to Ronon.

Whilst he has never wanted Ronon to think _he's_ with him out of gratitude, he's not sure how Ronon saving _his_ life changes the rules between them. Or if, indeed, it _does_ change the rules. But the choice he makes _not_ to find out means he spends the nights after that alone.

The hardest thing to cope with is how much he misses Ronon. Sex aside, he misses the warmth of Ronon's body lying next to him in bed and waking up with Ronon's scent on his sheets. He only sees Ronon in passing now, either coming out of meetings or in the mess hall. Never in the infirmary, and never _ever_ for anything, which could be construed as medical treatment in any way, shape or form. And he _knows_ it's not that Ronon doesn't _want_ him. Because on the rare occasions he goes off world, Ronon always appoints himself as his bodyguard, and he'll often catch Ronon watching him then with the kind of dark, hungry stare he's used to seeing on Ronon in bed.

Usually, that's when he starts praying for Ronon to trip and accidentally sprain an ankle or something.

In his more rational moments, he's a little ashamed of himself for having such thoughts. He knows things would be so much easier if he just _talked_ to Ronon. But they've never had that kind of relationship, and he's not sure where he would begin let alone what he might say afterwards. So, he decides to wait, even though it's driving him crazy.

Finally, one day he gets his wish when the law of averages kicks in again.

***

After he finishes bandaging Ronon's arm, when it's just him and Ronon alone in the infirmary, Ronon says to him: "Doc, I owe you an apology."

"God, Ronon, no!" Taking a deep breath, Carson lays a hand on Ronon's shoulder. "If anyone should apologize it's me," he admits, thinking about all the ethical lines he has crossed and the way he has never quite had the courage to face Ronon up front about their relationship.

"Still, I owe you one," Ronon insists before he takes a step back, breaking contact. "It was wrong of me to use you like that for sex."

Now, Carson is reeling because he's one hundred percent sure that's supposed to be _his_ line. "Use me?"

"Yes." Ronon sighs, looking more uncomfortable than Carson has ever seen him look before. "I just never planned to let it go on for as long as it did."

It doesn't escape his notice that this is easily the longest conversation he has ever had with Ronon, in or out of the bedroom. Or, that Ronon is talking about their relationship in the past tense, like something that's already dead and buried. Suddenly, Carson finds he'll give anything to go back to how things were a few weeks ago, when there were invisible boundaries between them, which they did not cross. He wants Ronon to _stop talking_ , because they never talk; that's not what they do.

"Ronon," he says, breathing raggedly. "You don't have to do this!" And everything's slipping through his fingers, ending right where it all began, in his infirmary, so unexpectedly. "We could—you don't—"

"I do," Ronon interrupts him, and as he stands even straighter, eyes forward, fixed on a point above and to the right of his shoulder, Carson can see every part of the soldier in him. "I've been alone for a very long time," Ronon continues. "It's not an excuse, but I got used to taking what I needed to survive. So, that's what I did here. When I needed, I picked you, and I took without thinking too hard about the effect that might have on you."

Only then will Ronon look at him again. In his eyes, Carson catches a glimpse of that same dark emotion, which he has seen there from time to time, but which he has never yet been able to decipher. He still can't work out what it means, not when he's standing in the wreckage of an affair he'd hoped would grow into something tangible but which was really only an illusion.

"I'm sorry for what I did to you," he hears Ronon whisper. "I've met a handful of good people in the last seven years, and you're one of them. You have my word I will never do that to you again."

After Ronon leaves, Carson sits down, drops his head between his knees. He spends the next five minutes or so concentrating on his breathing.

***

It takes him some time to find his feet. It's even longer before he feels ready to face Ronon again. Luckily, during that time Sheppard's team seems to stay out of trouble, so he is at least spared that much. But his reprieve doesn't last long, and soon enough Ronon is back in his infirmary, cut up and bleeding.

Part of him wants Biro to handle it; the rest of him, the part which is scared that Ronon might start having sex with Biro as well, refuses to let anyone else treat Ronon, even though it's so hard to touch the man he still craves but isn't allowed to have. In spite of that, he manages to keep his hands brisk and professional. And when Ronon thanks him at the end of it with a nod and another one of those sincere, near silent apologies, Carson feels sick to his stomach.

He knows he's not blameless in all this. It's one thing for Ronon to have used him, but that doesn't stop him taking a good, long, hard look at himself or at his own motives for sleeping with Ronon.

What he finds out about himself leaves him feeling decidedly more queasy.

***

Several days later, after much soul searching, not only does he accept that he's just as guilty of screwing things up, he decides it's time he admits it out loud. He thinks he owes Ronon at least that much.

Even though he suspects that right before a mission is the absolute worst time to do this, he's determined not to chicken out, because he knows that if he doesn't do it now, he'll find a thousand excuses _not_ to do it later. So he calls out: "Ronon, can I have a quick word with you, please?" just as Sheppard's team is running through final checks before walking through the Stargate.

When Ronon breaks away to come to him, he takes Ronon over to a quieter spot just below Elizabeth's office. "I'm sorry too about everything," he says in a rush, looking Ronon in the eye even though it's killing him. "And I know this is really piss poor timing, but I really, _really_ needed to tell you that. It's not fair on you to shoulder all the blame, especially when I deserve more than my own share. But one day, I hope—well, if you still want to, maybe we could—"

He breaks off then, face burning because this is so much harder than he thought it would be. Moments later, though, Ronon is drawing him into a hug, wrapping him back in that warm, familiar scent he loves so much. And his entire body starts shaking in reaction because, _God_ , he has missed this so fucking much.

They stay like that for a long time, holding each other tight until Rodney's shout of: "Hello? _Waiting_ here!" forces them to draw apart.

"I have to go," Ronon tells him, cupping a hand over his nape for a few, all too brief seconds before breaking contact entirely.

Carson just nods, not trusting himself to speak any more.

"We'll talk more when I get back," Ronon adds.

Since it's almost voiced as a question, Carson nods again.

He watches Ronon walk through the Stargate along with Sheppard, Teyla and Rodney, knowing as always that the chances of Ronon coming back injured are just the same as they ever were. He also knows that, should that happen, he'll be the one to patch Ronon up with no obligations and no ulterior motives.

If things go well, maybe they'll get a chance to talk, to get to know each other a little better. And whilst he's not sure where they'll go from there, he thinks at the very least they'll be friends.

  
The End.


End file.
